Passengers
by I Am The Prince of Wales
Summary: As new threats begin to emerge and Sylar gets back in the game, Matt and his makeshift family get caught up with Angela Petrelli, while Peter finds himself in the crossfires between Claire and Elle.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Passengers

**Rating: **Call it a hard "T."

**Spoilers: **Pretty much everything, I guess,

**Standard disclaimers:** All "Heroes" characters and properties are owned by NBC and related entities. Respect to Kring, Beeman, etc.

**Matt Parkman**

**Petrelli Mansion **

Matt had been more than a little surprised when Angela Petrelli sent for him. Given their recent history, he expected she'd never want to see him again. Still, he felt he owed it to her to honor her request and here he was, trying not to feel like he was walking into the lion's den.

He crossed into the drawing room of the Petrelli Mansion slowly, his head bowed respectfully. "Mrs. Petrelli. you have my deepest condolences..."

Angela raised a rueful eye to him. "I'm not here asking for you pity, Parkman, and this isn't about Nathan or anything you've done to me," she snapped. "This is about your adopted daughter."

Matt took a step back. "Molly?"

Angela nodded. "I'd like to invite her to live here, with me. Suresh as well."

Matt was flummoxed. "Where is this coming from? Have you even met Molly?"

Angela characteristically chose not to answer the question. "I know she was central to Linderman's plans, and that you yourself have... _used_ her to find your father... it only makes sense that she would figure in what lies ahead. Since you've proven yourself incapable of protecting her..."

"Now, just a second," Matt broke in.

"You allowed your father to_violate_ her mind," Angela continued, "you brought her into an apartment that had _already_ been attacked by a serial murder... and I'm willing to bet she's sleeping in that same apartment right now."

Once again, Matt found himself unable to meet her eyes.

"The battle that's coming... that could have been avoided if all of you had listened to me in the _first place_," she couldn't help but point out, "could go catastrophically wrong if young Molly... or your Doctor Suresh... fall into the wrong hands." She took a moment to eye him with contempt. "You I couldn't care less about."

Matt nodded, he definitely had that coming. "And you think they'll be safe here?"

"My husband and I knew more about what the future held than anyone else in the world," she voiced unshakably. "And while your generation has toppled some of our best laid plans for you, this is still the safest building on the East Coast."

Matt was still unsure, had no reason to trust Angela Petrelli. "I don't know..."

Angela rose up and eyed him. "Mr. Parkman, the last time you refused to listen to me, I lost a child. I would never wish that on anyone... not even you."

Matt paused for a moment to think. "Would I get to stay with her?"

**Peter, Elle**

**New York City **

"I don't think I can do this," Elle mumbled.

In the past few days, she had lost so much of her projected confidence and her child-like exuberance, but Peter felt that was ultimately a good sign. He'd dealt with addiction before, seen it in Isaac and numerous others, and he knew that learning to survive the pain of withdrawal was at the heart of recovery.

"Yes, you can," Peter assured her, grasping her hand. "Just take all the energy you want to fire off at the world and send it through _me_."

"No," she shook her head rapidly.

"I can survive it, Elle," he insisted. "I can heal."

"It's not the same, Peter," she mumbled.

Peter took her face in his hands. His feelings for Elle were complicated at best, but in the end, his desire to help others and his belief that she genuinely wanted to reform had won out. "Think about how good it felt to help people, Elle. How proud everyone was of you for doing the right thing."

Elle lifted her eyes and gave him a slight, sad smilet.

"Now, give me a jolt," he whispered.

"Okay," she nodded.

Elle dug her nails deep into Peter's palm and began to pour wave upon wave raw electricity through him, treasuring the feel of _her_ power coursing through every square inch of his body. Time seemed to stand still as each of her perfect blue bolts of lightning explored all that was Peter Petrelli, licking their way across his veins and arteries, tracing him down to his very DNA. When she finally disengaged herself, she found that she had never felt more satisfied with her powers.

Until she realized he'd stopped breathing.

"Oh my god," she gasped. She knew she'd take it too far, had warned Peter this would happen and now no one would be able to help her get ahold of herself.

Then Peter let out a cough and, slowly but surely, the damage she had inflicted him with began to fade away.

Peter gave her a lopsided grin, not letting her see the lingering agony he still felt. "See? It's nothing I can't take."

Instantly, Elle threw her arms around him in what was probably the most sincere embrace of her adult life. It was such a strange sensation, Elle thought, the joy of knowing she _hadn't_ taken a life. Maybe Peter and Mohinder were right, maybe she could be cured.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything..."

Peter turned at the sound of his niece's voice.

Even given all that they had been through together, the Peter had never seen Claire look so lost and hurt as she did at that moment, standing in the doorway watching her uncle, the man that had saved her life, and the girl that had gotten her father killed and nearly destroyed her whole family.

"I guess you can probably explain this," she creaked, her voice falling completely to the floor and shattering there.

**Sylar, West**

**Costa Verde, California **

"I just wanted to thank you," Sylar said sincerely. "I've dreamed of flying all my life... I was afraid it would never happen after what happened to Congressman Petrelli."

Sylar took a moment to regard West, who, being dead, was understandably silent.

"Are you two related?" Sylar asked casually. "It seems too much of a coincidence that you'd both share the same power."

Sylar paused as though he actually expected West to answer.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Sylar conceded, "I got what I need... and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your sacrifice."

Sylar leaned down to give one final glance at West. For a moment, he held his latest victim with something approaching real warmth...

...But Sylar was never one to get caught in the moment. No, the great thing about time was that it kept moving on. That's why a stopped watch was such a powerful annoyance.

And Sylar had lost too much time already.


	2. Chapter 2

**Suresh, Parkman, Walker**

**Suresh's Apartment **

After what felt hours of thinking about it, Mohinder Suresh finally threw up his hands in resignation. "I just don't see any other choice," he sighed.

Matt nodded, mentally returning the sigh tenfold. "Believe me, I've been looking for another option since I first got the offer. The fact is, she's right; this apartment isn't safe for any of us."

"At least we _know_ she's got an ulterior motive going into this," Mohinder reflected. "And even if we don't know what she has in mind... you certainly can't read her mind without jeopardizing the arrangement..."

Matt nodded guiltily. 

"...At least we'll be ready when it happens," Mohinder concluded.

Matt didn't believe that for a second and he was fairly certain Mohinder didn't either, but there was no point arguing. "So, I guess we're all moving into Fortress Petrelli."

"So it would seem," Mohinder agreed. He cast an uncertain glance towards the small girl sleeping on the other side of the room. "I can't let anyone threaten her again."

For a moment, Matt pondered remaining silent about his lingering suspicions, but he figured Mohinder had a right to the truth. "Mohinder," he began shakily. "I don't think this is about Molly."

Mohinder gave him a dubious look, but Matt pressed on. "I mean, she was clearly trying to get to me through Molly, and I don't doubt for a second she's in real danger... but she said your name more than once."

He paused and looked Mohinder in the eyes. "Mohinder, I think this is about _you_."

**Peter, Claire, Elle**

**New York City **

Unsure of what else to do, Peter rushed barefoot across his floor to meet Claire at the threshold. "Hi. I, uh, wasn't expecting you so early," he greeted her with enough warmth to hopefully drown out the awkwardness of the moment. 

It didn't work. "Yeah... I can see that."

Peter shot a nervous glance towards Elle, who was exchanging a silent glare of recognition with Claire. Peter thought back to how good his intentions had been when he invited the two of them into his home. "You, uh, got my message?" Peter murbled.

"Yeah," Claire nodded almost distractedly. She only had one bag, which he supposed said everything. 

"So, you're going to be staying here for awhile?" Peter asked with cautious hope. 

"It looks like," Claire replied with an utter lack of enthusiasm. At least it was a large bag.

Peter nodded, feeling guilty for no justifiable reason. "Cool."

"She's staying here, too?" Claire asked, dutifully avoiding her real question.

"Just until she gets straightened out. I sleep on the couch," Peter replied, answering it anyway.

Claire gave Peter the kind of resigned nod that broke his heart just a little more. "Who cut your hair?" she cracked, doing her best not to look at anything specific.

"She did," he was forced to admit, "but I was kind of in an unusual circumstance... she was holding me hostage."

"That doesn't sound unusual for her at all," Claire said without a trace of humor.

Peter glanced at Elle over Claire's shoulder. If she was listening to any of this, she didn't give any indication. 

Obviously he knew he'd have to explain his arrangement with Elle to Claire at some point, just like he'd have explain to her that he'd met a sociopath that just happened to look just like her and have the exact same powers. But he had planned to approach it slowly and cautiously. He hadn't expected Claire to show up unannounced and he certainly hadn't expected her to have already met Elle. 

People who've met Elle tended to have issues with her.

"Look, if this is going to be uncomfortable for you," Peter began.

Claire shook her head. "No, it's okay," she said, forcing a smile. Peter came to the horrible realization that she was probably had a lot of practice fake-smiling after being so consistently disappointed by all the men in her life. "I'm just in bad mood after the ride here," she assured him, completely failing to be not unconvincing. "I'll feel better after I've gotten some sleep. The far bedroom's mine?" she asked, pointing with her suitcase. 

Peter not slightly. "Yeah. Let me help you with your bags."

Claire shook her head with simulated brightness. "I'm okay," she chirped sadly. "There's only one of them."

"Right," Peter creaked.

Claire flashed him a sad smile and hefted her heavy bag off towards the new room. As she walked past, Elle couldn't help but give her new roommate a warm greeting. "Pom-pom."

"Sparky," Claire snapped back.

Peter shook his head until it was sitting in his hands. God, this was a mess even by his standards. He honestly didn't know how he was going to make this all work, but he had to. He should have let Claire know that she was the priority. He needed to help Elle, certainly he owed her that much, but he couldn't let Claire slip away. She was blood, after all, but more than that, she was all he had left of his older brother.

**Nathan Petrelli**

**Location Unknown **

Nathan woke up to find himself strapped to a hospital bed in a darkened basement somewhere. He'd been expecting this for a while now, but somehow that failed to make the ordeal any more comfortable.

"Sorry to have kept you under for so long," the familiar face behind the horn-rimmed glasses told him as he stepped out of the darkness. "They thought you be easier to transport if you were drugged."

"Are you going to apologize for shooting me, too?" Nathan sniped.

The other man tried to seem unfazed, but Nathan could see the caged look in his eyes. "I'm afraid that's becoming something of an initiation ritual here," he explained with a casual shrug. "In any case, you were only dead for a few minutes."

Nathan gave a sarcastic grin. "Emergency blood transfusion, right?"

Bennet recoiled so slightly to be barely noticeable, which Nathan of course caught instantly.

"I guess that's something else we have in common," Nathan chuckled.

But Bennet lost none of his nonchalance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nathan cocked his head to the side as much as his restraints allowed. "Neither us really wants to be here... I'm willing to bet neither of us really believes in this Company." If it were possible, he would have pushed his face into Bennet's personal space at this point. "And I'm willing to bet we wound up in where we are now for all the same reasons... right?"

Bennet seemed to consider this for a moment, but then rose up and turned to leave. "Mr. Petrelli," he said from the doorway, "the only thing you and I have in common is that are families are better off with us dead."

And with that he left Nathan in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Claire Bennet**

**Peter Petrelli's Apartment**

Claire stepped out of the shower to find her grandmother sitting casually in the dining area.

"Hello, Claire-dear," she said with cold formality.

"If you're looking for Peter, he's out trying to get Elle acquainted with the real world or something," Claire mumbled uneasily. "You know about Elle, right?"

Angela nodded. "Of course, and I completely support the relationship. It only makes sense after his last two girlfriends died that he would take up with someone he didn't actually like."

After first, Claire was going to that Peter and Elle weren't really together... then she realized what Angela had actually said. "He never told me that," she whispered, feeling a little guilty to have wallowed in her own pain while Peter was enduring silently.

"Well, he tends to be a greedy when it comes taking his share of the guilt, if you hadn't noticed," Angela clipped. "But you should have noticed that when he opened his home to two relative strangers."

"We're family," Claire said simply.

"And, now that he's gotten your birth-father killed, your family is a little smaller," Angela replied coldly, but her own pain more than apparent in her eyes.

"I..."

No doubt ashamed to let anything resembling real emotion show, Angela quickly changed the subject. "Have you been burning bacon in here?" she asked, nose crinkled in disgust.

The smell was, of course, the lingering scent of her youngest son being fried to a crisp internally. It was a smell that never seemed to completely fade after one of Peter and Elle's sessions, at least to Claire, but Angela didn't need to know all that. "Actually, with everything he's seen lately Peter's stopped eating meat," Claire replied, realizing the full extent of that statement for the first time. "He does all the cooking, so we have too, I guess."

Angela nodded and cast her eyes over the various herbs and spices that had been left sitting on the counter. "I see he's gone back to his old experiments with curry," she sniffed.

Claire smiled slightly. "Yeah, he's really good at it. I was honestly expecting he would have made a pasta or something."

"Hmm," Angela pursed cruelly, "I would have thought you would have abandoned those Italian stereotypes when you realized you were one of us."

At this point, Claire was understandably tired of Angela's remarks and decided not to deal with her anymore. "You know," she said, turning to leave, "I think I'll just go find Peter for you."

"Wait, a second," Angela called after her, "I've got something important to tell you."

Claire spun around to face her. "_What_?" she demanded.

"Keep your temper," Angela cautioned.

Claire quietly choked on her rage. "Is that it?"

"No," Angela replied simply. She unfolded her arms and relaxed her posture slightly. "The world is going to get considerably worse for us." Claire was about to speak, but Angela cut her off. "I know you think you've had difficulties before, but what's coming will make those days seem like a picnic in the park."

Claire didn't much care for having her problems minimized like that, but she supposed that was just part of dealing with Angela.

"Right now it seems to be very important to Peter to fill his house with tiny blonde women and maybe he truly believes he can protect you," Angela continued, "but you need to look at Peter's past. He gets people _killed,_ especially the people he loves."

"He saved my life," Claire replied bitterly.

"And he got your father killed," Angela shot back. "Just like he got Simone killed and his father and that girl from Ireland. And if you put your faith in him, you and Elle will both end up just as dead."

Claire kept her sad eyes on her grandmother, saying nothing.

"Now, I know you think I'm the villain in all this, but I'm only looking out for you," Angela cautioned, the weariness in her voice beginning to show. "All I've ever wanted is to protect my family. When you come to realize that, come to my house. I will look after you myself."

And then she was gone, leaving Claire alone in the apartment.

**Molly & Mohinder**

**Suresh's Apartment**

No sooner was another box of files successfully packed up and sealed over than Mohinder tore open the one next to it and began pouring through the contents.

"Matt wants us to leave as soon as he gets back from work," Molly cautioned, quite used to being the adult in the situation.

"I know, I know," Mohinder agreed, still tearing through his records.

Since they had reluctantly agreed to move into Fortress Petrelli, Mohinder had been obsessed with finding what could possibly make him so valuable to Angela Petrelli; so far he was coming up empty.

Logically, it had to be something he knew; he didn't have any abilities beyond knowledge and experience. But since the Company had full access to his father's research in genetics and his own work with the Virus, he couldn't begin to guess what that could be.

"It's just..." Mohinder continued. "Do you know have difficult it is not to know what you know?"

Molly screwed up her face in confusion. "What?"

Mohinder gave a slight smile, Molly really was a child after all. "The woman who is going to protect us... she wants something I _know_. It's apparently very important to her... but I don't know what that is. I think that if I did, I feel a good deal better about this whole thing."

Molly walked over to him and smiled. "You already know."

Now it was Mohinder's turn to look confused.

"It's always the same thing. What makes us special, the Virus, the Cure... it was always the same solution," Molly explained. "Something in our blood."

Mohinder's eyes went wide. "Of course."

**Micah Sanders**

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

Micah seemed to spend all his time sitting on Nana's couch. He knew Nana and Monica (and even Damon) deserved to be treated better than he had managed lately, but, given his circumstances, everyone was very understanding; almost painfully so. No one expected him to be okay.

Micah leafed despondently through one of his father's old Justice League comics. He wasn't reading it, he couldn't even focus on the pictures, but it brought his mind back to brighter times... before Jessica or Linderman or his Grandfather had come into their lives, when it was just him and his Mom and Dad.

DL was on the porch going over the orders for his next few jobs, Micah approached him slowly. "Hey, Dad," Micah began cautiously, "can I ask you something?"

DL gave his son a broad, reassuring smile, welcoming the interruption. "Micah, you can ask me anything in the world."

Micah nodded, but still proceeded nervously. "Can Superman outrun the Flash?"

"Oh, you wanna get philosophical," DL laughed.

"I'm just curious," Micah shrugged.

"Well," DL reflected, "Superman can run pretty fast and he can fly even faster, but... no, he can't outrun the Flash. No one can."

"Really?" Micah plodded excitedly.

"Absolutely," DL confirmed. "See, Superman has a whole lot of powers, he's the best superhero there is, but Flash... he's just got the one thing. He's just fast. And when you can only do one thing and the guy next to you can do ten, what do you have to do?"

"You have to be the best person in the world at that one thing," Micah volunteered.

DL nodded. "Right, you've got to practice it all the time, figure out new ways of using it. Like the Flash, he says to himself 'okay, if I can run fast, then maybe I can think fast and maybe I can fight fast,' and then maybe it doesn't matter so much that he isn't as strong as Superman or as smart as Batman, 'cos he knows his edge."

"Wow," Micah smiled up at his father. "You really know a lot about superheroes, Dad."

"Well, that was gonna be _my_ thing," DL smiled. "When I was your age, I'd skip lunch for _weeks_ just so I'd have money to go to the comic shop. I read all the books: Batman, Spider-Man... In fact," DL reflected, "I think I still have box of old Justice Leagues somewhere around here."

Micah's eyes lit up. "Really!?"

"Oh, I think so," DL nodded. "But if I give them to you, I don't want to catch you putting them in plastic and trying to 'preserve the value,'" DL told him sternly. "You better read every last one of 'em."

Micah laughed and threw his arms around his father, bouncing with anticipation at the thought of a new box of old comic books.

Micah was brought back to present by the sound of someone knocking at their door. He walked over to to investigate and found his Nana speaking cautiously to the man on the other side of the glass.

"...no, I'm sorry, but we haven't seen _any_ kind of dog around here lately," she said, warmly yet firmly.

"Well, do you think I could just leave you one of these fliers?" the man drawled kindly. "My little girl won't stop crying and I promised her I'd find that dog..."

Micah looked at the face on the other side and squinted. He'd seen it before, but he wasn't sure where. "Hey, do I know you?"

Sylar flashed him a warm smile. "You know, I think I did see you and your parents once."


	4. Chapter 4

**Micah Sanders**

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

Micah still couldn't believe he'd survived it.

It had taken everything he had, his one thing, as his father had called, was pushed beyond the limits of what he thought imaginable, but even with his Nana and Monica using their powers to ensure his escape, that was all Micah could do: survive.

Survive and make sure the Monster that had done this to his family would never take Nana and Monica's gifts from them.

He realized then that he'd never be a real hero. The Flash didn't just use his one thing to survive; he used it to make sure everyone _else_ did, too. And if it came down his own survival and those around him, a real hero always sacrificed themselves.

Like his Dad, or his Mom.

Or Nana and Monica.

As he made his way through the airport, he tried not to let himself focus on how alone he now was in the world now that the last of his family had finally been ripped out from under him.

Even if he'd never be a hero, he knew that he had to bring the Monster-Man down, and he even knew how to do it...

But if his plan was going to work, he had to survive long enough to get to New York.

While simultaneously manipulating the computers, Micah scanned the airport employees to see who looked like they would be most sympathetic towards a child his age traveling alone.

**Elle Bishop & Claire Bennet**

**Peter Petrelli's Apartment**

"Why aren't you _paler_?" Elle asked seemingly out of nowhere.

Her tone had been one of playful cruel taunting, so Claire tried to ignore her.

"I mean, they say that a suntan is just one big bruise," Elle continued. "So, why aren't you the palest person in the world?"

Of course, that was the tone she _always_ used with Claire, and the younger girl was quickly losing her resistance. "Well, I wouldn't want to steal your title."

"I'm just trying to understand your powers better," Elle insisted, feigning hurt.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence.

"Can you get drunk?" Elle asked, her tone still mocking.

"I've never tried," Claire snapped back, feeling superior even if it was a half-truth.

Elle nodded, not letting her smirk fade.

This had quickly become the status quo between the two of them: Claire wasn't about to forgive Elle for what happened (especially since Elle had yet to give her any indication that she wanted forgiveness or was even sorry, for that matter), while Elle clearly didn't want Claire around disrupting whatever she thought was she had going on with Peter.

Which was another problem, because there was no way Claire was going to let Elle fuck with her family again, in absolutely any sense of the word.

Elle's smile increased as she prepared to deliver her coup de gras. "So... has your virginity grown back yet?"

Claire's little face crumpled up in fury. "PETER!!"

**Molly & Mohinder**

**Suresh's Apartment**

"I think I've finally figured out what they're so afraid of," Mohinder said frantically into the phone.

Sitting in the corner, Molly tried to listen to the voice on the other end, but the words were lost to her and it was not a voice she recognized.

"It was actually something Molly said that got me thinking," Mohinder reflected, almost allowing himself to be amused, despite obvious tension building in him over the past few days. "I checked the blood infected with Strain 138 against the blood of one of Maya's unintentional victims and..."

Mohinder drew a breath.

"...there were significant differences, obviously, but I'd say we're looking at a mutation of the same virus," Mohinder concluded darkly.

Molly could hear the silence on the other end.

"I can't honestly say why Angela and whoever she's working with are so interested in protecting this information," Mohinder continued, "but you know her better than I do and I'd dare say you know what's at stake better than any other human being on the planet, so I'm sure you know what has to be done."

Molly watched sadly as Mohinder's shoulders slumped in resignation. "I'll keep in touch with you," he said, then severed the connection.

--

On the other side of the phoneline, Nathan Petrelli picked up his gun and steeled himself for what he had to do.

"The things a man has to do to protect his family," he said dispassionately.


End file.
